This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any existing people or events is coincidental. If a story involving sexual contact with minors bothers you or is illegal where you live, stop reading now.

Tommy's Coach

"Seriously, Bob... how could you? I mean, he's your son and you're supposed to protect him, aren't you?"

My Little League coach was talking to my Dad. We were in the parking lot after the game. My Dad was staring at his shoes and stammering. Coach Mike was a lot bigger than him and I guess Dad was a little afraid. I was kinda scared of Coach too sometimes, but I actually liked how he ran the team. He yelled when we messed up but it was because he wanted us to do our best. It was neat because I could tell that he really cared, which is more than I can say for my Dad mostly.

Since Mom left Dad's been different. He's a lot quieter and doesn't seem to want to do anything, and he locks himself in his room all day sometimes. He still comes to my games but we hardly talk anymore. It makes me sad, and mad too. I miss Mom tons but it's sorta like I lost them both.

Anyway, I was only listening a little since I was still in pain. I was pitching today and there was this line drive that came right up the middle and... ya, it got me. Right where it hurts most. I was rolling around on the ground holding my nads for like 5 minutes. When that happens you cry even if you're in front of the whole team. I'm nine years old and don't cry about much anymore but all the guys understand about getting your nuts whacked.

Coach wasn't done with Dad. "You got the note that all the boys are required to wear a cup, didn't you Bob?" He waited while my Dad mumbled. "I-I've been... busy. I didn't think h-he'd really need it..." Coach looked at Dad like he looked at a player when they said they couldn't stay in the batter's box on an inside pitch. We called it his "give me a break" look and it felt terrible. I guess it worked on Dad too, since he said "Okay, okay... but... like... where do you get one his size?"

Coach rolled his eyes and put his hand on my shoulder. "Christ, Bob." Dad seemed to shrink even more. Finally Coach looked down to me and said, "I'll get you taken care of, Tommy. You ride with me to my house. Your Dad will follow us in your car." He looked hard at Dad as he said the last part. I didn't think Dad would like being talked to that way, but he just kinda bit his lip and nodded. Coach didn't wait for Dad to say anything before he walked me to his car.

I was still squirming when I got in. "Seat belt, Tommy." I liked how Coach just said things like that, like he was used to people doing what he said. "Still hurts, ya?" I nodded and swallowed. It still hurt a lot. He nodded back. "We'll have a look and then get you fitted so it doesn't happen again." He shook his head. "I can't believe your Dad didn't take care of this." I felt like I had to apologize for him. He's my Dad after all. "He's been busy, like he said." It sounded silly even as I said it and I felt myself blush. I was also blushing because I'd just really heard what Coach said we were going to do at his house. "I-I think it'll be ok, really," I ventured.

He got kinda stern. "We can't assume that, Tommy. We need to be sure that you don't need to see a doctor, and I'm sorry to say that I don't trust your Dad to get you the proper equipment." I couldn't argue with that, since I'd asked Dad twice to get me... the thing... and he hadn't.

We pulled into Coach's driveway and got out of the car. Dad pulled in behind us and followed us into the house. Coach pretty much ignored Dad. He kept his arm around my shoulder since I was still walking funny. It felt nice and made me less nervous. I didn't pay much attention to Dad either but he looked a little lost.

When we got inside Coach pointed to a chair and said to my Dad, "Sit." Just like that. Almost like he was talking to a dog. Dad sat. I guess I wasn't too surprised since I knew how Coach's voice can feel when he gets that way. I felt a knot in my tummy but Dad sort of smiled like he was saying it's ok. His face changed though when Coach started talking to him again.

"You put your son in danger, Bob. Because you apparently don't care enough to get him the proper gear. Now I want you to sit there quietly or I'll take him to the hospital and explain to them what a neglectful parent you are. Seriously, I just don't understand people like you. You should be ashamed of yourself." Dad was staring at his shoes again. I could barely hear him say, "Umm... I know... I'm sorry... thank you for... helping us."

Coach nodded and seemed to calm down some. He put his hand on the top of my head, tipping it back so I was looking up at him and smiled a little. "Strip from the waist down, Tommy. Everything off. I'm going to get some ice."

I felt my face get hot and I looked at Dad. He looked up a little surprised. "Errr... is that... is that really necessary?" he managed. Coach just glared at him. "It's necessary because you're a bad father, Bob. Is that clear?" Dad swallowed and looked down again. Coach looked back to me, waiting before prodding me. "What do you say, Tommy?" I remembered our ballfield rules and answered like we'd been taught. "Yes Coach," I said almost automatically. He ruffled my hair and said "That's my boy," then turned and went into the kitchen. I heard him rustling with the ice as I got my cleats off. He'd said everything so I took off my socks too, partly because it delayed me taking off my pants.

I hadn't been naked in front of anybody in a while, especially not my Dad. I know he used to give me baths and whatever but that changes when you get to be nine. Somehow Coach made me feel less shy though. I took a cue from him and decided to kind of pretend my Dad wasn't there. It didn't seem like there was any way around this now.

I had my uniform pants around my ankles when Coach got back with a bag of ice. I sat on the couch and pulled the pants off my ankles. I guess Coach could tell I was nervous because he said, "We've all got the same parts here, Tommy. Nothing to be shy about." After a second he added, "Assuming your Dad has any balls, that is." He smiled at me when he said it and I laughed a little. I couldn't help it, it was funny. Dad didn't look happy but he didn't say anything.

So I lifted by butt and pushed my underpants down and kicked them off my feet. I knew I was blushing but thank goodness Coach didn't say anything about it. It was weird being naked in his livingroom with him and Dad all dressed. The cloth on the couch was a little rough and I felt it down there. My nut sac tried to get away from it and tightened right up against me. Coach used his nice voice when he said "That's my boy." Then more serious. "Lie down. Knees up. Legs spread." It was easist to just do what he said. I looked away as I spread my knees open and felt my dick flop up onto my tummy.

Coach was back to nice voice. "You know I was trained as an EMT, right Tommy? So I know what I'm doing. Let's just be sure you're ok. Tell me where it hurts, son." When he said "son" it made me feel weird. I looked over at Dad who was also red in the face and looking away. It almost made me feel like I wished Coach were my Dad. I felt Coach's big hand on the inside of my left thigh. I winced and squirmed, whispered "Ow," trying to sound grownup. "You've got a big bruise here already, Tommy. But that's the good news, I think." His hands moved slowly but firmly around on my legs, and then... up. I took in a little breath as I felt him rolling my balls around in his fingers. I tried to keep looking away but I could help it. When I turned to see what he was doing I saw Coach was looking at my face, I guess to see if it hurt. He kept pressing and prodding. "Your left testicle is a little swollen, Tommy... does it still hurt?" I nodded slowly. Now that I was watching his hands for some reason I couldn't look away.

I guess I gasped when he squeezed my dick in his fingers. It's not even as big as his little finger, but he rolled it around just the same. "Any pain in your penis, Tommy?" He looked right at me and I shook my head. He smiled at me and kept on rolling it, back and forth. His thumb brushed over the tip and I jumped a little. I don't have the skin on the end like some guys. I knew about hardons cuz guys talk about stuff like that and I got them sometimes. Coach didn't stop even when my butt started to squirm and I felt myself start to get stiff. I watched as it started to stretch out, pointing up toward my belly button. I thought my face was on fire I was blushing so hard.

"Just making sure it's working, Tommy. An injury here can cut off the blood supply and that would be bad." I glanced at my Dad and he had his face buried in his phone. Coach didn't stop with his fingers until I was stiff as a nail. "That's my boy," he said, more quiet than I'd ever heard him. "Working just fine, I'd say. And a nice size for your age."

I guess I must have looked disappointed when he finally took his hand away. I couldn't help it. It was just starting to feel awesome and made me forget the achy pain down there. He chuckled. "My little man didn't hate that, I think." He swatted my tummy and I laughed, his way somehow making me feel ok about having my junk all hard and hanging out.

"The good news is that the ball caught you mostly on the thigh. A little to the right and we'd probably have had to amputate your boy parts." I laughed again, and he took the bag of ice and pressed it against the bruise on my leg and against my sac. I felt my nuts crinkle up even tighter but my stiffie didn't seem to want to shrink at all.

Coach turned to Dad, who was still studying his phone like it was the most important thing in the world. "Bob, come make yourself useful. Hold this ice here while I get your son a proper cup. You're a lucky man, because if he'd been seriously hurt I probably would have beaten the crap out of you."

Dad kinda sulked but he did what Coach said. He sat on the couch and held the ice awkwardly, trying not to look between my legs. He couldn't miss that I was hard though. He got this strange expression on his face and started turning red. I couldn't tell if he was mad or what. He started to say something but Coach cut him off.

Coach stared daggers at Dad and sounded really low and angry, "I still might beat the crap out of you, Bob. I want you to look at the damage. That's a nasty bruise and it's going to hurt for a long time. How does that make you feel as a parent?"

I saw Dad look between my legs and he swallowed and his face got redder. I felt my face get hot too, with him staring at my stiffy. Coach's expression changed when he saw how Dad looking at me. "Thank goodness his dick wasn't injured, ya? I seems to be working ok, seeing how stiff it is."

Dad didn't say anything, but he kept on looking. Finally Coach chuckled a little. "I guess you've never seen Tommy with a boner. You didn't think your boy was old enough to get erections? I bet you were a late bloomer yourself, Bob. You seem to be that type." Coach smiled at me. "You've got a fine one for your age, Tommy." He looked at Dad again. "I bet your Dad thinks so too."

Totally awks. Dad finally looked away. Coach seemed to think it was funny.

"You do, don't you Bob? You think your boy has a very nice penis." Coach paused. "I know that look, Bob. Oh yes. I know that look very well."

Dad was bright red. After a minute Coach said, really slowly, "So, Bob. What are you going to do to help Tommy out? To show him that you're a good parent?"

I guess Dad and I were both confused. Coach gave me a wicked grin. "Take care of it for him, Bob. Give your son some relief. Show that you care." Dad's face got red as a tomato. "W-what do you mean? Y-you can't be serious..." he mumbled. Coach's voice was calm but really dark underneath. "I mean I want you to masturbate your son, Bob. Stroke his penis until he orgasms. And I want you to do it now, and I don't want you to argue with me, because you're a piece of shit as a Dad and you're lucky I don't make it much worse for you. So I want you to make him happy. He deserves it, and you deserve this too. And besides... I think somewhere deep down inside you want to do it."

Dad shook his head. "I can't... I won't." Coach got really angry then. He slapped my Dad across the face pretty hard. I was kinda scared but my hardon was like twitching. It was weird but I didn't really feel bad for Dad. It was his fault after all. I was kinda mad at him for Mom going away and for ignoring me all this time and for letting me get hurt. So I just watched when Coach took my Dad's head and pushed it down between my legs. "Ok then... if you won't jerk him off, you're going to blow him." He had Dad's neck in his big hand and was squeezing hard. I felt Dad's mouth against me and the breath through his nose. Coach seemed to be having fun now. "Suck. His. Cock. Like a good Dad."

Dad struggled some but in a minute he went sort of limp. I couldn't see past his head but all of a sudden I felt my dick get warm... warm and... wet. I couldn't believe it. I started to freak out and looked at Coach cuz it was just too strange and kinda scary. But then there was like the best feeling ever coming from down there. Like... way better than anything else. Coach winked at me and used his hand to move Dad's head up and down. I felt Dad's warm breath from his nose. I couldn't talk and don't know what I would have said if I could have.

Coach had this weird grin on his face. "That's it, Bob. You're bobbing on your son's cock. Pretty funny. I thought perhaps you were that way. I can tell. The way you stared at his bare little hardon. And I bet this is the first nice thing you've done for him in a while. How does it feel, Tommy?"

I gasped and panted but managed to say, "It's... a-awesome..." Coach chuckled. "That's good, Bob. You're a good cocksucker. Is that why your wife left, Bob? Did she find your gay porn? Did she catch you blowing your neighbor? I've always thought you were that type. I'm going to take my hand away but you're not going to stop, understand? Be a good Dad and finish him off."

Coach took his hand off of Dad's neck. Dad opened his eyes and looked up at me. His face was like scared and saying "what can i do?" but it wasn't like he was grossed out or anything. He kept going up and down on me and I even felt his tongue go around it in his mouth. It was totally strange but I totally loved it and that made it even more totally strange. I wondered if what Coach said was true, about Dad and Mom. I mean, he didn't really fight much before he started sucking on me.

After a minute I felt everything get all tight and I felt like I was gonna pee but it just kept on and then my dick started to jump and dance like mad and I thought I was gonna pass out. It was the most amazing thing ever and my face must have showed it. Coach laughed and patted my knee. Dad sat up and stared at the couch. He seemed confused and wouldn't really look at me. Coach said, "Tommy doesn't shoot yet I guess... that must have been disappointing for you, Bob. Oh and... just in case." Coach showed my Dad his phone. Seems he took pictures. My Dad was mad but Coach just gave him this scary look and Dad dropped his head again.

I was still dizzy when Coach came back and tossed me a package with a brand new junior sized cup supporter in it. He tossled my hair and talked to me about baseball as I tried it on, just like nothing weird ever happened. He showed me how the butt straps worked and how to put the plastic part in. He touched me a lot but for some reason I didn't feel shy any more, even when he said the back was open so he could spank me. Coach told me to keep the ice on my bruise that night and I'd be fine. He didn't pay any attention to Dad except when he said, "Make sure he wears it. Oh, and you'll be bringing him by here regularly from now on. I want to make sure that you're taking proper care of him. Let's start tomorrow morning at ten."

My Dad blinked up at him. Coach waited, then said, "What do you say, Bob?" Dad looked at me, then back at Coach, then back at me, then down at the floor. "Yes Coach." Dad said it real quiet. I giggled a little, and Coach smiled at me.

This is part of a series. The next part can be found here: Tommy's Coach - 2
I'd love to hear your feedback. You can contact me at [email protected]
My other work can be found here: Joshua Woode's stories

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